The Clansman
BOOK II
THE REVOLUTION
CHAPTER IV
HIDDEN TREASURE
BEN had spent a month of vain effort to secure his father's release.
He had succeeded in obtaining for him a removal to more comfortable
quarters, books to read, and the privilege of a daily walk under guard
and parole. The doctor's genial temper, the wide range of his
knowledge, the charm of his personality, and his heroism in suffering
had captivated the surgeons who attended him and made friends of every
jailer and guard.
Elsie was now using all her woman's wit to secure a copy of the
charges against him as formulated by the Judge Advocate General, who,
in defiance of civil law, still claimed control of these cases.
To the boy's sanguine temperament the whole proceeding had been a
huge farce from the beginning, and at the last interview with his
father he had literally laughed him into a good humour.
“Look here, Pa,” he cried. “I believe you're trying to slip off and
leave us in this mess. It's not fair. It's easy to die.”
“Who said I was going to die?”
“I heard you were trying to crawl out that way.”
“Well, it's a mistake. I'm going to live just for the fun of
disappointing my enemies and to keep you company. But you'd better get
hold of a copy of these charges against me—if you don't want me to
escape.”
“It's a funny world if a man can be condemned to death without any
information on the subject.”
“My son, we are now in the hands of the revolutionists, army
cutlers, contractors, and adventurers. The Nation will touch the lowest
tide-mud of its degradation within the next few years. No man can
predict the end.”
“Oh, go' long!” said Ben. “You've got jail cobwebs in your eyes.”
“I'm depending on you.”
“I'll pull you through if you don't lie down on me and die to get
out of trouble. You know you can die if you try hard enough.”
“I promise you, my boy,” he said with a laugh.
“Then I'll let you read this letter from home,” Ben said, suddenly
thrusting it before him.
The doctor's hand trembled a little as he put on his glasses and
read:
My Dear Boy: I cannot tell you how much good your bright
letters have done us. It's-like opening the window and letting in the
sunlight while fresh breezes blow through one's soul.
Margaret and I have had stirring times. I send you inclosed an order
for the last dollar of money we have left. You must hoard it. Make it
last until your father is safe at home. I dare not leave it here.
Nothing is safe. Every piece of silver and everything that could be
carried has been stolen since we returned.
Uncle Aleck betrayed the place Jake had hidden our twenty precious
bales of cotton. The war is long since over, but the “Treasury Agent"
declared them confiscated, and then offered to relieve us of his order
if we gave him five bales, each worth three hundred dollars in gold. I
agreed, and within a week another thief came and declared the other
fifteen bales confiscated. They steal it, and the Government never gets
a cent. We dared not try to sell it in open market, as every bale
exposed for sale is “confiscated” at once.
No crop was planted this summer. The negroes are all drawing rations
at the Freedman's Bureau.
We have turned our house into a hotel, and our table has become
famous. Margaret is a treasure. She has learned to do everything. We
tried to raise a crop on the farm when we came home, but the negroes
stopped work. The Agent of the Bureau came to us and said he could send
them back for a fee of $50. We paid it, and they worked a week. We
found it easier to run a hotel. We hope to start the farm next year.
Our new minister at the Presbyterian Church is young, handsome, and
eloquent—Rev. Hugh McAlpin.
Mr. Lenoir died last week—but his end was so beautiful, our tears
were half joy. He talked incessantly of your father and how the country
missed him. He seemed much better the day before the end came, and we
took him for a little drive to Lovers' Leap. It was there, sixteen
years ago, he made love to Jeannie. When we propped him up on the
rustic seat, and he looked out over the cliff and the river below, I
have never seen a face so transfigured with peace and joy.
“What a beautiful world it is, my dears!” he exclaimed, taking
Jeannie and Marion both by the hand.
They began to cry, and he said with a smile:
“Come now—do you love me?”
And they covered his hands with kisses.
“Well, then you must promise me two things faithfully here, with
Mrs. Cameron to witness!”
“That when I fall asleep, not one thread of black shall ever cloud
the sunlight of our little home, that you will never wear it, and that
you will show your love for me by making my flowers grow richer, that
you will keep my memory green by always being as beautiful as you are
to-day, and make this old world a sweeter place to live in. I wish you,
Jeannie, my mate, to keep on making the young people glad. Don't let
their joys be less even for a month because I have laid down to rest.
Let them sing and dance—”
“Oh, Papa!” cried Marion.
“Certainly, my little serious beauty—I'll not be far away. I'll be
near and breathe my songs into their hearts, and into yours—you both
promise?”
“Yes, yes!” they both cried.
As we drove back through the woods, he smiled tenderly and said to
me:
“My neighbour, Doctor Cameron, pays taxes on these woods, but I own
them! Their sighing boughs, stirred by the breezes, have played for me
oratorios grander than all the scores of human genius. I'll hear the
Choir Invisible play them when I sleep.”
He died that night suddenly. With his last breath he sighed:
“Draw the curtains and let me see again the moonlit woods! “
They are trying to carry out his wishes. I found they had nothing to
eat, and that he had really died from insufficient nourishment—a
polite expression meaning starvation. I've divided half our little
store with them and send the rest to you. I think Marion more and more
the incarnate soul of her father. I feel as if they are both my
children.
My little grandchick, Hugh, is the sweetest youngster alive. He was
a wee thing when you left. Mrs. Lenoir kept him when they arrested your
father. He is so much like your brother Hugh I feel as if he has come
to life again. You should hear him say grace, so solemnly and tenderly,
we can't help crying. He made it up himself. This is what he says at
every meal:
“God, please give my grandpa something good to eat in jail, keep him
well, don't let the pains hurt him any more, and bring him home to me
quick, for Jesus' sake. Amen.”
I never knew before how the people loved the doctor, nor how
dependent they were on him for help and guidance. Men, both white and
coloured, come here every day to ask about him. Some of them come from
far up in the mountains.
God alone knows how lonely our home and the world has seemed without
him. They say that those who love and live the close sweet home-life
for years grow alike in soul and body, in tastes, ways, and habits. I
find it so. People have told me that your father and I are more alike
than brother and sister of the same blood. In spirit I'm sure it's
true. I know you love him and that you will leave nothing undone for
his health and safety. Tell him that my only cure for loneliness in his
absence is my fight to keep the wolf from the door, and save our home
against his coming. Lovingly, your MOTHER.
When the Doctor had finished the reading, he looked out the window
of the jail at the shining dome of the Capitol for a moment in silence.
“Do you know, my boy, that you have the heritage of royal blood? You
are the child of a wonderful mother. I'm ashamed when I think of the
helpless stupor under which I have given up, and then remember the
deathless courage with which she has braved it all—the loss of her
boys, her property, your troubles and mine. She has faced the world
alone like a wounded lioness standing over her cubs. And now she turns
her home into a hotel, and begins life in a strange new world without
one doubt of her success. The South is yet rich even in its ruin.”
“Then you'll fight and go back to her with me?”
“Yes, never fear.”
“Good! You see, we're so poor now, Pa, you're lucky to be saving a
board bill here. I'd 'conspire' myself and come in with you but for the
fact it would hamper me a little in helping you.”